


everywhere you turn, catastrophe it reigns

by pollitt



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Episode Re-Write, Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-06
Updated: 2011-03-06
Packaged: 2017-10-16 03:27:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/167927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollitt/pseuds/pollitt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Atlanta, Rick just wanted a place to lay his head, gather his strength. He never expects who he finds when he arrives at camp.</p>
            </blockquote>





	everywhere you turn, catastrophe it reigns

**Author's Note:**

> This has been knocking around in my head since I watched the original airing of _The Walking Dead_ and my partner in crime fanned the muses along.
> 
> Inspired by the graphic novel and most definitely by the show--this is my AU take and is a reimagining of the reunion in "Tell It To the Frogs," only instead of Rick being reunited with his wife and son, Rick is reunited with his Partner and son.
> 
> Thank you to Data, who has been feeding this muse for months now. This story is for her.
> 
> And thanks to Cat and Mav for cheering me on.
> 
> All mistakes are my own.

There really are no words to describe what it feels like to see your family again, and even if Rick were to have a thousand years and the language of poets, he wouldn’t have been able to describe it.

Carl, his son, his _life_ , is here, calling his name, running towards him and suddenly it didn’t matter, none of it did--not the walkers, not the pain, nothing--not when he could hold his son in his arms. Rick can finally let go of any thought of holding it together as he sank to his knees, Carl’s arms wrapped tight around his neck, and he just wept.

"Rick?” It’s Shane’s voice, and a second wave of emotion hits him.

Rick finds his feet again and he can feel all eyes on him as he walks, Carl still in his arms, toward Shane, and damn the rest of whatever world is left if so much as an eyebrow is raised as he feels Shane’s arms pull him close.

It’s a queer thing, but it’s the soft scratch of Shane’s stubble against his own day’s-growth that brings the tears back to Rick’s eyes. He wraps his free arm around Shane, clutching at the fabric at the back of his partner’s shirt to keep him as close as possible.

"Christ, Rick,” Shane says in a voice that sounds like it’s been dragged across a gravel road.

It’s more than Rick can say right now, his voice is still buried under the weight of emotion that he’s finally letting himself feel. He opens his mouth to say something, but all he can manage is some stuttered sounds, but Shane reads them loud and clear. He always could understand Rick, from day one.

"Carl.” Shane’s voice is calm, almost soothing, and is quiet, meant only for Rick and his son and not any of these people who are surrounding them. It’s a tiny glimpse at what could’ve been--if there’d never been the bullet, if the world hadn’t gone to hell while Rick wasted away in a hospital bed. “Carl, buddy, I need you to go with Dale for a little bit. I need to talk to your dad. Okay?”

Carl whimpers his displeasure and Rick finds he almost does the same when he feels Shane pull away.

“I’m not going far, son. I promise.” Rick kisses Carl’s cheek and then Shane’s hands are there, taking Carl into his arms and he whispers something in Carl’s ear that Rick can’t hear, and Carl sniffs and nods.

“Good boy,” Shane says, setting Carl back down on the ground.

A gut-punch feeling hits Rick as he thinks of how much Shane and Carl must’ve had to go it alone without him. He has so many questions, he doesn’t know where to begin.

“Dale? You can watch Carl for a little while, right? While I talk here to Rick?” Shane asks, his good ol’ boy charm in full effect.

"Sure I can.” Rick can see the salt and pepper-haired man--the one with the curious eyes that don’t miss a thing, Rick is guessing--reaching out for Carl. “Carl, can you come help me and Jim with the van?”

“Yes sir,” Carl says, quiet and polite, and follows Dale and another, gaunt-faced man toward an aged Winnebago.

“C’mon,” Shane says, tilting his head. “We can’t go too far, but...”

“Lead the way.”

Rick follows Shane into the copse of trees, and almost as soon as they’re out of view, Shane pushes him back against a tree and follows almost immediately with his mouth; the kiss is unglamorous and desperate. Their teeth knock together, their stubble scratching as Shane licks and bites at Rick’s mouth.

Rick's mouth feels bruised when Shane pulls back.

“I thought you were _dead_. When it all started falling apart I went to the hospital. It was crazy, Rick.” Shane’s touching Rick’s face like he still can’t believe he’s standing in front of him. Like he has to prove by feel that this is real. “I was there and I tried to carry you, but there were wires and your IV and I didn't, didn't know what to do. And then power was gone and I couldn't...”

“Shane,” Rick says, quiet as he can. Like Shane’s a scared animal that could attack at any time.

“I couldn’t hear you breathing, I couldn’t feel--” Shane lets his words trail off. He has one hand pressed up against Rick's chest, right over his heart. “I pushed everything I could in front of the door and then I got out of there. Got Carl and ran. Rick...”

“I don’t blame you. You got out, you survived and you’re here.” Rick frames Shane’s face, rubbing his thumbs with and against the grain of Shane’s stubble.

Shane lets out a sob and all but collapses forward, and it’s all Rick can do to catch him and wrap his arms around his partner’s shaking shoulders.

The bark from the tree is pressing up against Rick’s back, and Shane’s weight is heavy against his front. Shane smells of dirt and sweat and lake water and Rick turns his head and breathes him in. The wave of arousal hits so fast it almost takes his breath away.

“Shane,” Rick says, his voice already raspy from the oxygen flooding to below his belt.

Rick shifts, opening his legs wider and pressing his groin up against Shane’s thigh. It’s been a long time since his dick has been paid any sort of real attention and in no time Rick is hard.

Shane’s breath gets shallower as he thrusts up against Rick’s thigh, Rick can feel Shane’s answering erection. With a wicked smile, Shane undoes Rick’s belt, unbuttons and unzips Rick’s pants, and with a lick over his palm Shane reaches down into Rick’s pants and takes him in hand. Rick can feel the calluses--both new and old--on Shane’s fingertips as he strokes Rick’s cock.

Shane leans in, kissing and biting and sucking at the skin of Rick’s neck as he continues his ministrations, drawing a hiss, a whimper, a muffled moan from Rick.

“Let me touch you, too,” Rick manages as the first sparks of his impending orgasm start to gather low in his stomach.

“Not going to last long. How the hell-- Shit, Rick. You survived. We survived. _Christ_. Love you.” Shane says.

He bucks into Rick, his hips thrusting forward as Rick touches him through his pants.

“Shane,” Rick says, his knees threatening to buckle as he comes. Rick leans forwards, wrapping his arm around Shane to pull him as close as possible as he thrusts into Shane’s hand.

“Yes,” Shane hisses, When Rick runs his teeth along Shane’s earlobe, letting the tip of his tongue flicker against the shell of Shane’s ear, he muffles a shout and Rick can feel Shane buck forward in release.

“Rick,” Shane says against the raw skin of Rick’s neck.

“Shane.” Rick curls his hand around the back of Shane’s neck and holds him still, his face pressed against Rick’s neck. Rick’s emotions are as raw as his skin, and he knows if he looked at Shane right now, when he asks the question he needs to ask, that last thread might snap and he’d fall apart completely. “Shane, where’s Lori?”

He’s prepared himself for Shane’s answer. Since waking up in that hospital bed and discovering the world’s had gone to hell, he’s been preparing himself for every possible outcome including the one that included one or all of his loved ones--his son, his partner, his ex-wife--dead.

He’s not expecting the truth he’s told.

“She’s alive. Or was a week ago.” Shane’s breath is hot against Rick’s throat.

“I thought, when I saw Carl and you... I thought she was gone.” The divorce had been a rough one--toughest, of course, on Carl, who had been five at the time--but no matter what had gone on between him and Lori, she was the mother of his child. And he feels a flood of relief at the news.

“When you were shot, it was pretty fucked up. It was hard for her to see you like that, but she knew Carl needed his dad, that he needed to see you. And that kid’s been through enough in the last coupe of years, so we thought keeping things as normal as possible was the way to go. Lori and me are never gonna be drinking buddies but I have known your son since he was in the cradle, and with you in the hospital Lori agreed he needed a father-figure around. So she let me take Carl to the hospital to see you, let us hang out on your weekends.”

Shane pulls back and Rick doesn’t resist. There’s a fond smile on Shane’s face and Rick feels the corner of his mouth curl up in reply.

Shane hadn’t been unaffected by Lori and Rick’s divorce either--he’d been Rick’s best friend almost since the day they’d been assigned as partners, and when Lori had packed Rick’s bags, Shane had carried them to the car and provided Rick with a couch and a six-pack to drink away his troubles. And, then, in the months before the bullet that put Rick in a coma, Shane had become so much more to him.

“Carl was with me when all hell broke loose,” Shane continues. “I tried to get to Lori, to bring her with us, but they’d already blocked off the streets. I thought the worst, didn’t say anything to Carl, but your boy’s no dummy and he thought it too. Then we met up with the others here and they had the CB. The best shock before I saw your sorry ass again was when we heard Lori was with a pack of survivors who radioed last week. I told her Carl was safe.”

Shane’s smile’s gone now, and Rick recognizes the signs of worry creasing at the corners of his mouth as Shane looks at him. If Rick didn’t know any better, he’d say that Shane was worried about where he stood with Rick--where they stood. This rut up against the tree was about more than a need to feel skin against skin.

If that’s what Shane’s worried about--if that crazy notion had even entered his head--Rick is going to need to set his mind at ease.

“Thank you.” Rick runs his fingers along Shane’s face again, sliding his thumb along the hair at Shane’s temples. “Thank you for being alive. Thank you for keeping Carl safe.”

“I’m so sorry. If I could change it all, before, if I had known. . . I never would’ve left you behind.”

“Shh.” Rick leans forward and kisses him, soft but insistent. “I can’t imagine what it was like. What’s important is I’m here now, and we’re together. We have a second chance.”

Shane doesn’t answer him, not with words, but Rick can see it in his eyes that Shane’s starting to believe him.

“Okay?” Rick says, quiet.

“Okay,” Shane answers, curling his hands over Rick’s hips. “Rick Fucking Grimes.”

Rick covers Shane’s hands with his own and squeezes, reveling in the feel of the skin, muscle, and bone and in the way Shane smiles. “That’s me, partner.”

“We should probably get back. No doubt tongues are already wagging.” Shane looks back up toward camp. “I think it’s a rule of civilization that if you put more than three people in the same place, even with God damn walkers threatening to eat their guts for breakfast, if there is something to talk about they will. And it’s the men that are the worst of them all.”

“They’ll get over their shock, and let them talk, because now that I’ve found you--and I knew I’d find you--I am not losing you again.”

“I’d like to see you try.” Shane’s grin is rueful as he buttons and zips Rick’s pants. “C’mon, let’s get you looking respectable before I introduce you to the neighbors and give you the tour of the new digs. You’re going to be wishing you were back in the hospital if only for the comfort of a real bed.”

“I have my family, I have my health, and I have my gun. I don’t need anything else,” Rick says honestly, buckling his belt.

“Give it a week and you might be singing a different tune.” Shane takes a step back and looks Rick up and down. The laugh, when it comes, sounds easy. “If there was any doubt of what we were doing in the woods, one look at you is gonna tell the whole story. I feel like I’m a teenager again, trying to sneak out of my granddad’s barn with Sadie McGee and acting like nothing happened while I’m pulling straw and hay out of my hair and my pants.”

Rick can’t see what he looks like, but if Shane’s any reflection of his own current state, then Shane’s example isn’t far off. Shane’s shirt is half untucked, the fabric wrinkled and twisted from where Rick had fisted it, and his pants aren’t faring much better. But it’s the red patches of skin at Shane’s mouth and neck that are the most telling. “No straw or hay this time, but I highly doubt Sadie McGee left stubble burn.”

Shane laughs and turns, starting to walk back toward camp. “You’re a funny guy. C’mon.”

Rick closes his eyes and says a silent prayer of thanks before following.


End file.
